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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a gleaming obsidian staircase spirals downward into darkness, surrounded by a sprawling, crystalline metropolis that's somehow embedded within the caldera of an ancient volcano, its spires reflecting the pale, silvery light filtering through the thick, crystalline dome above. The air feels heavy with anticipation, electrically charged, and it smells of burnt offerings and rain. Like, as I look up, I see this sprawling network of silver filaments that seem to be supporting the dome, but they're not actually attached to anything. Water droplets suspended mid-air somehow begin to arrange themselves into tiny, gleaming hexagons.